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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118546">Overwhelmed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oclark1226/pseuds/oclark1226'>oclark1226</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Saves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Leshens (The Witcher), One Shot, Potions, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sick Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:13:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oclark1226/pseuds/oclark1226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Initially started as a “Geralt overdoses on potions, Jaskier has to help” and then it turned into “Too many potions, too many injuries, and now he’s sick (and Jaskier has to help). </p><p>*“Is that…blood?” Jaskier swallowed hard.</p><p>Geralt nodded unsteadily. He tried to speak but started coughing instead. That was when Jaskier noticed the red flecks appearing on Geralt’s gloves, joining some that were already there.</p><p>“Fuck,” he breathed. “Geralt…you-you’re coughing up…”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt rasped. “I know.”*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>319</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Overwhelmed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This wasn't supposed to be this long... but here we are. Also, plz let me know if you actually liked it or not because this one kinda got away from me and idk how to feel about how it turned out. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt fucked up. </p><p>…</p><p>Hours earlier, he’d arrived in a rather isolated village in Velen in search of a woman. She’d posted a contract in one of the surrounding towns claiming some beast roamed the nearby woodlands. Recently, her husband had returned from collecting wood there in a state of shock. It had taken hours to get an explanation out of him and it left her speechless. He relayed his story to the witcher when he arrived. Geralt only nodded and asked for a few details from the man before leaving their hut and heading into the forest without explanation.</p><p>The man’s account pointed towards a leshen, possibly a very old one. Geralt hadn’t stopped to study the village’s mythology, but he’d noticed some strange artwork in the surrounding area that might’ve existed to worship the creature. He’d encountered similar situations before. He just hoped this one wasn’t as deeply rooted as it could be in the community.</p><p>He found the location of the man’s incident quickly. The trees were gnarled and twisted as if they’d been trying to capture something. Roots poked unnaturally from the ground at all angles. Geralt stopped to listen, hearing a barely audible whistle that wasn’t just the wind. It was the sound of leaves and twigs rustling in a breeze that wasn’t there, crows calling to no one, and wolves sniffing along the ground.</p><p>Following the sound, Geralt got out a potion of Swallow and readied it on his belt. After a moment of consideration, he added Thunderbolt next to it. As he got deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to crowd around him, thicker and thicker. He tracked the leshen as the sun got lower in the sky and eventually downed a potion of Cat to allow him to see through the darkness beginning to surround him. </p><p>Not long afterwards, the growls of wolves become quite apparent all around him and he realized he was surrounded. Drawing his silver sword, Geralt cast his eyes around the area and lowered himself into a practiced stance, both hands grasping his weapon. </p><p>“Show yourself,” he growled lowly. Instead of the leshen he was expecting, a flock of crows erupted from the trees in front of him and swarmed him. Their talons bit into his armor, softening it up for the main act. Within moments, they were gone almost as quickly as they came, some laying dead on the ground after making contact with Geralt’s sword.</p><p>Before he had a chance to look around, he felt a presence behind him. Halfway through turning around, a mass slammed into his shoulder and they both hit the ground. Geralt rolled with the impact and swiftly got to his feet, sword at the ready. Across from him, the wolf that had attacked him was starting to circle him. </p><p>“There’s never just one,” Geralt muttered, ears pricked for sounds of the rest of the pack. Suddenly, the wolf let out a bloodcurdling howl, and everything happened at once.</p><p>The rest of the pack burst forward from the surrounding woods, and it was a considerable pack. 10 or 12 wolves came at Geralt while a piercing sound reached his ears and made his head pound. That moment of distraction was all the wolves needed to pounce at him, some tearing at armor, others reaching flesh. Geralt held off one in particular that had its sights set on his throat by forcing his sword in between its jaws. </p><p>A strong push and the casting of Aard gave him some space from the wolves. For a moment, he spotted the leshen, hiding in the shadows of the trees. Thankfully, Cat was still in his system so the further setting of the sun wouldn’t impact his ability to fight. </p><p>He fought the wolves off while the leshen continued to appear and disappear around him. When there were only a couple wolves left, Geralt drank the potion of Thunderbolt he had ready. His body took a moment to adjust to its effects and the new toxicity in his blood. He could picture its effects on his face, how it darkened his eyes and his veins.</p><p>One of the two remaining wolves leapt at him and he thrust his sword in its belly. As it made contact, something sturdy hit him in the back and sent him tumbling into the base of a tree, his sword thrown from his hands. Gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs, Geralt blinked his eyes open to see the leshen approaching him, slowly and menacingly. </p><p>As he pushed himself upright, the tree he was up against was suddenly twisting around him, pinning his arms to his sides. The leshen got within a few feet of Geralt and tilted its skull of a head, as if curious about this dangerous being. Geralt’s torso was getting pulled tighter and tighter against the tree trunk, making it harder and harder to breathe. </p><p>He felt a rib crack under the increasing pressure and bit back a cry of pain. The leshen reached out one of its wooden arms and picked the witcher up by his throat as the tree finally released his chest. Geralt only got a short gasp of air before his windpipe was cut off. Again, the leshen seemed curious about the man it held and paused to observe him. </p><p>Geralt started seeing spots, darkness surrounding his vision. As he neared the brink of unconsciousness, the leshen abruptly tossed him aside, into another tree trunk. More bones cracked and he tasted blood. Gasping for breath, he scrambled to down Swallow before the leshen reached him. His sword was in between him and the monster, so he just needed to survive long enough to get to it, then figure it out from there. </p><p>The leshen made a motion and suddenly disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Geralt forced himself back to his feet and took that opportunity to get his sword and cast Quen, granting himself a little extra protection. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat. He could feel his ribs scraping their broken edges against each other and every breath burned from his airways to his lungs.</p><p>The leshen reappeared to his left, but Geralt was ready for it. He slashed at its leg and tried to stab it in the chest but had to roll out of the way of a large foot that nearly stomped him. With Thunderbolt and Swallow working together, his body temporarily forgot its aches and pains to instead concentrate on his strikes and dodges. </p><p>They danced around each other for several minutes, neither causing significant damage to the other. The witcher cast Igni a few times and managed to get some strong hits on the beast, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down. It continued to teleport around him, and he was forced to rely on his hearing and smell to predict where it would be next. The adrenaline pumping through his blood kept him on edge and alert.</p><p>Finally, the leshen reappeared directly behind Geralt and predictably tried to swat him away. The witcher ducked under the swing and used that moment to reach its chest and push his sword in deep. Coupling that with Igni, the beast howled while Geralt twisted his sword even deeper. </p><p>As the leshen fell to its knees, it lashed out one last time. One hand slammed into Geralt’s chest, knocking him down onto his back and pinning him there. The other hand sank its claws deep into his thigh. Geralt screamed as the raw pain cut through every other sensation. The leshen collapsed next to him in seconds, relieving the pressure on his chest.</p><p>His vision swam and he fought off the urge to pass out, needing to see if the leshen was truly defeated. He smelled smoke and burning wood, but he was only convinced when he turned his head and saw the leshen’s body sprawled out, lifeless, on the dirt next to him, his sword still embedded in its chest. The strange darkness of the forest around him seemed to lighten up to an extent and the air somehow felt clearer. </p><p>Gasping through pained breaths, Geralt felt a sudden wave of nausea and he retched onto the ground helplessly. Dark liquid spilled over his lips as his body convulsed. With a sense of dread, he realized that this wasn’t from his injuries. </p><p>
  <i>How many potions have I gone through tonight?</i>
</p><p>This was when he realized he’d fucked up.</p><p>…</p><p>Geralt woke some time later to the sound of someone’s voice and a pressure on his shoulder. As the pain came rushing back in, it took a few tries to make out what the person was saying. To his surprise, the voice sounded strangely familiar.</p><p>“Gods, Geralt! What the fuck happened to you? How are you alive? Your <i>face</i>! Why are there so many dead wolves in this bloody forest? Can you speak?”</p><p>Geralt groaned in response, feeling his stomach roll again. He turned himself to the side and threw up again. There were hands on his back and side, keeping him in place. Once his stomach had nothing else to rid itself of, his body relaxed as he caught his breath. </p><p>Jaskier maneuvered himself so Geralt’s head was resting on his thigh rather than the vomit-splattered ground. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but Geralt squeezed his eyes shut with the movement, a small whine escaping his throat. </p><p>As he waited for the world to stop spinning, he realized that Jaskier was still trying to ask him questions and mustered together the best explanation he could while also remaining conscious.</p><p>“Took too many potions,” Geralt grunted between strained breaths. “Body’s rejecting...and m’leg’s fucked.” His words started to slur together, and he mentally noted that that was a bad sign. </p><p>“Geralt, goodness. That’s-none of that is good. That’s bad, in fact,” Jaskier rambled. “So, you can’t take any more potions to heal yourself? Roach isn’t here? And you can’t even walk?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head slowly in response to every question, trying to keep the world from spinning again. His eyes started to drift shut and Jaskier snapped his fingers directly in front of his face.</p><p>“Oh no, don’t you go passing out on me! I’m gonna need you somewhat conscious to get you back to town. Can’t lug your arse back all by myself,” Jaskier scolded. Geralt grunted in acknowledgement and started shifting.</p><p>“Do you-do you want help? I don’t know that you should… Geralt?” Jaskier stuttered in concern.</p><p>Fighting the urge to throw up, Geralt tried to sit up from Jaskier’s lap. His arms shakily held his weight, but his ribs shifted painfully with the movement and he collapsed back down with hissed breaths of pain.</p><p>“Shit, Geralt,” Jaskier murmured. “Okay, we need a plan.”</p><p>Geralt nodded as he tried to get his breathing back under control. His lungs felt like they were scraping up against his broken and cracked ribs. </p><p>“I’m gonna get you up and we’re gonna make our way back to town. You’re not to put <i>any</i> weight onto that nasty leg of yours, just gonna lean on me as much as it takes. We’re gonna go back an-Are you okay? Geralt, can you breathe?” Jaskier interrupted his own declaration as he noticed his friend’s breathing and trembling wasn’t getting any better. </p><p>“Broke some ribs,” Geralt hissed out through his teeth. Jaskier kept a steadying hand on Geralt’s chest, lightly enough not to cause pain, but present enough to keep Geralt grounded.</p><p>“Geralt, we really need to get you back to town,” Jaskier said after a time. </p><p>“You can…go,” Geralt grunted between breaths. “I’ll heal…eventually.”</p><p>“Are you seriously suggesting I just <i>leave</i> you here?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Without another word, Jaskier carefully put Geralt’s head back on the ground and got up, pushing his sleeves back.</p><p>“What’re you-?”</p><p>“Brace yourself!”</p><p>Geralt did. The bard managed to get Geralt sitting upright, but they had to stop to let him catch his breath. </p><p>“We’re getting the hell out of here!” Jaskier stated decisively. “We’ll take breaks on the way back, but you need out of this damn forest so you can heal properly.”</p><p>Geralt allowed Jaskier to pull him up to his feet and wobbled dangerously. The witcher couldn’t hold back a cry of pain as his leg burned with pain. His muscles were still trembling and sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. Jaskier pulled his arm around his own shoulders so that Geralt’s bad leg was next to Jaskier. </p><p>It took some experimenting, and lots of failed attempts, but the two figured out how to hobble along while causing Geralt minimum pain. He was gritting his teeth through each and every step, but refused every hint of a break. Eventually, Jaskier resorted to desperate measures.</p><p>“Geralt, here’s a nice rock. Let’s sit on the nice rock. <i>Please,</i>” Jaskier whined dramatically. He wanted to annoy his friend into resting because he could tell just how badly he needed it but wouldn’t admit it. So, plan B. </p><p>“I can’t hold you up much longer, Geralt. My arms need a break, seriously.” Geralt growled in response, but allowed Jaskier to lead him towards the promised rock. It wasn’t a perfect seat, but it would do. </p><p>Geralt collapsed onto it clumsily, but managed to stay upright while letting his bad leg rest in a still position against the rock. Jaskier sat on the rock with him so they were back-to-back. He felt Geralt relax against him, too exhausted to support himself completely as he caught his breath.</p><p>Neither of them commented on how the tables had turned or how Jaskier would’ve been able to take down Geralt if he wanted to. Jaskier wasn’t going to hurt his pride more than he had to. Witchers rarely accepted help because they rarely needed it. This was a strange and unfamiliar situation for both of them. </p><p>Jaskier wiped sweat off his forehead. The moon was high above, but provided them little light. He was trying to lead them back the way he had come, but all the trees looked the same. Not to mention that he didn’t know how much longer Geralt could go on before his good leg gave way. </p><p>“How?” Geralt’s voice rumbled through Jaskier’s back.</p><p>“How what?” Jaskier replied, leaning his head back against Geralt’s. The witcher didn’t pull away, too tired to care.</p><p>“How did you find me? How’d you even know I was out here?” Geralt’s voice was strained. Jaskier knew from that sound just how badly off he was. One of the most stable, constant things about his friend was the low thunder of his voice. It had a certain steadiness to it that rarely wavered, even in the face of danger.</p><p>“I… may have been tailing you. Word got around that you were in the area and all it took from there was asking a few questions. Can’t have my muse running off and getting himself killed, can I?” Jaskier replied easily. </p><p>Geralt hummed in response. He was starting to lose focus on their conversation as he felt his stomach tossing once again. One hand moved towards his gut while his other planted down on the rock for support. </p><p>Jaskier felt Geralt shift behind him suddenly. “Geralt? You alright?”</p><p>The words had hardly left his mouth as Geralt bent over, throwing up the same dark liquid as the previous times. Jaskier was at his side in moments, trying to support him while murmuring nonsense to try to soothe him. One hand pushed his white hair back from his face while the other went around his shoulders.</p><p>After a couple of minutes, nothing else was coming up but Geralt’s body continued to heave, muscles contracting painfully. At the end of the incident, his energy was completely spent and he fell sideways against Jaskier, gasping in shallow breaths. His eyes were watering and his throat burned. His body begged for rest, rest that he couldn’t afford right now. </p><p>“Fuck! Are you alright, Geralt? Still with me?” Jaskier had one arm around the witcher’s back and the other on his shoulder, keeping him mostly upright. He got a nod in response against his ribcage, where he could feel Geralt catching his breath. </p><p>“Okay. I hate to do this, but you’re definitely not getting any better out here. We need to keep going,” Jaskier explained regretfully. </p><p>Geralt certainly didn’t feel strong enough to keep going. All he wanted was to lay down on the forest floor and let unconsciousness take him. He’d either survive this encounter, or he wouldn’t. But with the bard here, there was a push to get help, to take action. He wasn’t used to that.</p><p>“Get me up,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier did his best to make the maneuver painless, but there was no stopping the shout that came from Geralt as they moved his bad leg.</p><p>“<i>Fuck</i>!”</p><p>After that, they continued hobbling along, but Geralt’s face was losing color while his veins remained dark and foreboding. Jaskier managed to find a good stick that Geralt could use as a crutch for his other side and that seemed to help. </p><p>“So, how many potions does it take for you to start vomiting black goo?” Jaskier asked, trying to keep Geralt in the present.</p><p>“Depends on… the potions,” Geralt responded in between breaths. </p><p>“Shouldn’t you just <i>not</i> mix potions then?”</p><p>“Sometimes… you need more… than one.”</p><p>“But that can kill you!”</p><p>“That’s what… White Honey’s for.”</p><p>At this, Jaskier nearly stopped in his tracks. “You mean you have something for this exact situation?”</p><p>“Not… on my person… dipshit,” Geralt growled.</p><p>After that less than productive conversation, things were quiet for a while. The only sounds were their footsteps and breathing in the forest that never seemed to end.</p><p>“D’you… hear that?” Geralt grunted. He was leaning more and more on Jaskier, who had started worrying that Geralt was near the point of bleeding out.</p><p>“Hear what?” Jaskier replied, taking a cautionary look around. “Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to fight something. I could hardly get your big old sword into its sheath, let alone swing it around.”</p><p>“Not… monster…” Geralt wheezed. “Water…was a stream…near the village…”</p><p>“So we’re getting closer,” Jaskier finished for him. They’d been struggling through the trees for hours; it was about time they reached civilization. “Do we need to follow the stream or just make sure to cross it? I was a little focused on other matters on my way to you.”</p><p>“Follow… downstream,” muttered Geralt. He had one arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and his other arm around his torso, trying to stabilize his ribcage and his stomach at the same time. Feeling bile rising up his throat, he practically threw himself from Jaskier’s arms to drop to his knees just in time to puke again.</p><p>Jaskier held his hair back with one hand and rubbed circles on Geralt’s back with the other. It was shorter than the last bout, but when it was over, Geralt collapsed against Jaskier, his whole body trembling and burning up.</p><p>“Geralt? Geralt, are you okay?” Jaskier shifted Geralt so he was leaning back against him rather than sideways. He could feel the larger man shaking against him with exhaustion, but he got a nod in response. Jaskier shifted and Geralt thought he was going to try to get up.</p><p>“Don’t,” he whispered, shaking his head.</p><p>“Shhh, I’m not going anywhere. You need a minute? We’ll take a minute,” Jaskier replied softly. He felt Geralt relax some and the shivers seemed to lose some of their intensity. It was his breathing that was worrying Jaskier the most. It was uneven and unpredictable; sometimes one breath seemed to pause for a count too long before continuing. </p><p>Jaskier used one arm to support Geralt as he started to list to the side. “Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me. We still have plenty of ground to cover.” He might have imagined it, but he thought he heard, or rather felt, the witcher whine back in his throat. After a moment, he got a nod from Geralt and took that to mean he was ready to continue.</p><p>Jaskier helped the witcher stand and found the stick he’d been using for support. They hadn’t made it far before Geralt motioned for Jaskier to stop for a minute and help him get down to the ground.</p><p>The bard assumed he needed a moment to rest and was prepared to sit down and join him. Instead, he watched as Geralt started ripping up the remains of his trousers on his bad leg from the knee down.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” Jaskier inquired, observing Geralt with curiosity and some confusion.</p><p>“Need…splint,” Geralt muttered between shallow breaths, looking around. “There. See…those sticks?” He pointed to several branches at the base of a tree. When Jaskier nodded, he continued. “Grab some. Might…need your help…to set my leg.”</p><p>Jaskier obediently ran off to fetch the sticks while Geralt mentally prepared to explain to his bard that this was going to hurt like hell, but it would benefit them both in the long run. </p><p>Jaskier returned with four different sticks and let Geralt pick out whichever he deemed fit for the task. Once Geralt had broken them apart to the sizes he needed, he explained what Jaskier needed to do. He paled at Geralt’s instructions, but agreed to help all the same.</p><p>Geralt lined up the sticks exactly where he wanted them while Jaskier held the fabric strips in place, ready to tighten and knot them. Geralt put one of the extra branches between his teeth and Jaskier felt a shiver run down his spine.</p><p>“Three…two…one!” Geralt’s countdown was followed by a muffled scream and the creaking of the branch in his mouth as Jaskier pulled the fabric tight. He jumped back, terrified he’d done something wrong. Once the witcher regained control of himself, he spit the stick out and observed their handiwork.</p><p>“Not…not bad,” Geralt said hoarsely. Jaskier returned to his side and tried not to think about how much that would’ve hurt and Geralt seemed to understand that Jaskier didn’t necessarily want to be proud of this. “We can get moving… gotta follow the stream.”</p><p>Jaskier just nodded and helped Geralt back up to his feet. They started following the stream towards civilization. As much as the splint and crutch helped with their speed, Geralt was starting to lose the battle with staying conscious. His breaths scraped through him and his muscles were trembling.</p><p>As the moon got lower in the sky, Jaskier noticed that it somehow seemed to be getting lighter. “Geralt! Geralt, we’re almost at the edge of the forest! I think I can see the smoke from the village!” He exclaimed with joy. Geralt barely nodded, mostly focused on staying awake. </p><p>Taking a closer look at his friend, Jaskier noticed just how awful Geralt looked in the moonlight. There was dried blood on his face and in his hair. His eyes seemed to be getting less dark, but his face was all too pale against his black veins. Jaskier had never seen him so exhausted.</p><p>“We’re almost there, friend,” he murmured, unsure if Geralt was even awake enough to hear him.</p><p>The stream seemed to run directly next to the village, so all they had to do was follow it another mile or so and they’d reach it. Jaskier had a room in the town’s inn already; he’d likely drag Geralt there to get him patched up and rested. They’d be able to go back and retrieve the leshen’s head once Geralt recovered and the contract would be fulfilled. </p><p>Jaskier was so lost in his optimistic train of thought that he tripped over a root, nearly taking Geralt down. He managed to regain his footing and neither fell, but Geralt groaned at the sudden movement. </p><p>“Sorry, that was my bad entirely,” Jaskier apologized, trying to get a better grip on Geralt’s shoulders. Looking over at his friend, he saw the makeshift crutch fall from his hand as Geralt suddenly collapsed. Jaskier, to his credit, caught Geralt under his arms and managed to carefully lower him to the ground. </p><p>“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me?”</p><p>…</p><p>Geralt was tired. So fucking tired. His leg throbbed and tingled and felt all kinds of wrong. His chest fought him for every breath. He kept resisting the urge to throw up because it hurt so badly. Jaskier had said something about the village or the stream but he couldn’t spare the energy to listen closely. </p><p>Jaskier stumbled over something and the jostling that followed made Geralt’s head spin. He felt himself getting weaker, starting to drift. He closed his eyes for just a moment, but when he opened them, he wasn’t upright anymore. He was on his back on the ground and Jaskier was on his knees next to him.</p><p>The bard had tear streaks through the dirt on his face and had a tight grip on Geralt’s hand. He was saying something in between choked out sobs and Geralt didn’t understand what was going on. Before he could ask Jaskier what was wrong, he felt his body convulse and he leaned his head to the side as much as he could as vomit rose up his throat and out of his mouth. </p><p>Hands flitted from his side to his head and his hair, then to his back as he rode out a spell of dry heaves that pushed his core muscles past their limit. Tears streamed from his eyes at the pain. Jaskier was saying something from above his head but he could only hold onto the comforting tone that he was learning to be familiar with. </p><p>Geralt finally managed to get control of his body again, catching his breath as Jaskier held onto him with shaking hands. Or maybe it was his body that was shaking. He couldn’t quite tell anymore. </p><p>“Geralt, I-I don’t know what to do. I need you to tell me what to do,” Jaskier pleaded. He’d just watched his friend collapse, unresponsive, only to then throw up more violently than before, and now he just laid there, shaking like a leaf and slowly bleeding out while barely holding onto consciousness. </p><p>Geralt’s lips moved and Jaskier had to put his ear up to his mouth to hear him.</p><p>“Jask…get…Roach…bags…White…Hon…” Geralt trailed off as he lost consciousness once again. </p><p>Jaskier hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Geralt here, wounded and ill. But if he didn’t go get what he needed, he’d die anyways. </p><p>“You owe me big time after this,” Jaskier sniffled. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he stood back up and looked toward the village. Glancing back down at Geralt, he took a steadying breath and started running.</p><p>…</p><p>Jaskier reached the village, winded and looking a bit like a madman, but he went straight to the inn, recalling the stables attached to the back of the building. As he suspected, Roach was standing in one of the stalls, her equipment hung up next to her. </p><p>“Roach! We have a problem! Your rider has gotten himself into some serious trouble and we’ve got to save him. I know you like him a lot more than you like me, but we have to work together, okay?” </p><p>He didn’t have a lot of experience with horses, but he’d seen Geralt put on her saddle and bags enough times to replicate the motions, albeit much clumsier than usual. Something about his panicked tone and manner must’ve clued her in that something was wrong. She allowed Jaskier to work with her and was huffing at him in impatience as he opened up the stall doors. </p><p>She nearly left the village without him but did eventually slow enough that he could pull himself up. Once he was settled, she broke into a full gallop. People had to dodge out of the way as Jaskier shouted both warnings and apologies through the streets. Once they made it out of the gates, they followed the stream back to Geralt.</p><p>…</p><p>The witcher was exactly where Jaskier had left him, the only sign of life was the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest with every shallow breath he took. His veins still stood out against his face. The sad excuse for a splint still held together, but blood stained the grass around his thigh. </p><p>“Fuck,” muttered Jaskier as he swung his leg over Roach’s back, making his way to the ground. He grabbed the saddlebags and rushed over to Geralt. Roach followed closely behind, but left enough room for Jaskier to move around Geralt’s body. </p><p>“White Honey, what the hell does White Honey look like?” Jaskier muttered to himself, digging through the various potions in the bag. “I guess ‘white’ would be a decent start.”</p><p>Once he had several bottles and vials of white liquids sorted in front of him, Jaskier started shaking Geralt by the shoulder to wake him up. The witcher groaned and opened his eyes slowly. Before either of them could speak, Geralt started retching. More black sludge and something deep crimson came up this time. </p><p>“Is that…blood?” Jaskier swallowed hard.</p><p>Geralt nodded unsteadily. He tried to speak but started coughing instead. That was when Jaskier noticed the red flecks appearing on Geralt’s gloves, joining some that were already there.</p><p>“Fuck,” he breathed. “Geralt…you-you’re coughing up…”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt rasped. “I know.”</p><p>Jaskier paled. Shaking his head, he quickly started holding up bottles until Geralt indicated which one was White Honey. Jaskier managed to get him upright enough to drink the whole bottle, sips at a time. Once the bottle was empty, Geralt’s eyes drifted shut and a shudder ran through his body. When he opened his eyes again, they were back to their cat-like yellow and his veins were lightening.</p><p>“What now?” Jaskier asked, Geralt leaned back against his chest at a low angle. </p><p>“Need rest…Roach?” Geralt coughed again, but no blood came out this time.</p><p>“She’s here. Can you stay on her by yourself?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head. “Sit…behind me.”</p><p>Jaskier was hesitant to move Geralt, who seemed to pick up on it. “If I sit…much longer…gonna pass out…again.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Jaskier muttered. He carefully got up from behind Geralt and called Roach over. She knelt down, allowing Jaskier to more or less shove Geralt up onto the saddle. He leaned forward against her neck and hummed, seeming content. Jaskier gathered up the saddlebags and joined Geralt. He held the reins with one hand and kept his other hand on Geralt’s back, in case he started to fall sideways. </p><p>They left at a quick walk, Roach doing an excellent job of being stable and speedy at the same time. Geralt remained leaned up against her, occasionally coughing or groaning, but mostly quiet other than the sound of his wheezing. </p><p>Jaskier couldn’t have felt more relieved when they finally got back into town. Their speed constraint had made their trip back far longer than the trip out. Villagers in the streets murmured and let out hushed gasps. No one dared to get in their way. Roach took them back to the inn with little guidance from Jaskier, lowering herself so Jaskier could help Geralt down, grabbing the saddlebags at the same time.</p><p>The witcher was barely conscious enough to keep himself upright, even with both hands braced on Jaskier’s shoulders. Some stablehand came by to lead Roach back to her stall and she followed him obediently. Geralt swayed as Jaskier carefully guided him inside the building, then to the room. </p><p>Once they got in, Jaskier clumsily deposited Geralt on the bed and shut the door, tossing the saddlebags next to the bed. Geralt was groaning, but seemed so out of it, Jaskier wasn’t sure he knew he was making any noise. </p><p>Jaskier quickly got to work undoing the buckles and latches of Geralt’s ruined armor. Some parts came off slick with blood and Jaskier willed himself to keep going despite the damage he was now exposing to the air. Geralt’s shirt and trousers were in no better shape, so they were removed as well, leaving the man in his breeches. </p><p>Jaskier finally stopped to look over his friend’s body and felt the room spin.</p><p>“Blood, there’s so much…Geralt…you can’t…fuck,” he breathed in shock.</p><p>He’d removed the temporary splint and now that the wound had nothing obscuring it from view, Jaskier could see just how much damage there was. There were several deep gashes, presumably from the leshen’s claws, and the skin hung loosely around them. Geralt’s chest was deep shades of black and blue along and his throat had similar markings. Various scratches littered his arms and face, dried blood on every part of him. </p><p>Geralt’s chest rose and fell unsteadily. He lay on his back, stretched out from the head to the foot of the bed. Jaskier pushed his fear aside for the moment and started tearing strips of cloth from Geralt’s ruined shirt. Thankfully, someone had brought in a large bucket of water near the hearth. Perhaps one of the maids realized who Jaskier had been looking for and knew what kinds of situation his friend ended up in. </p><p>He dunked the strips in the water, rung them out, and carefully cleaned up Geralt’s wounds as best as he could for the time being. Geralt remained mercifully unconscious, sometimes letting out a quiet moan. Jaskier left one strip on Geralt’s forehead after realizing the other man was far too warm. He kept several strips dry and wrapped them around the leg wound to slow the oozing of blood that refused to end.</p><p>“Jask…Jaskier,” Geralt rasped, eyes squinting open. He groaned, one hand moving to his chest.</p><p>“Hey, hey. I’m right here, Geralt.” Jaskier was at his friend’s side and within his field of view in seconds. “What do you need?”</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrowed and his expression turned into a pained grimace.</p><p>“<i>Hurts…</i>” </p><p>Jaskier felt his heart drop into his stomach at the witcher’s pained words. Geralt was strong, tough, hard to crack, but here he was, crumbling. </p><p>Fighting back tears, he smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Geralt. You just need some rest. Then it won’t hurt anymore.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes fell shut and his breathing quickened. “Jask…” he groaned. “Can’t…breathe…too…heavy.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned. <i>Heavy?</i> His armor and clothes were off. Nothing else should’ve been causing his chest so much pain. “Okay, okay. Let’s just get you upright then, shall we?”</p><p>Jaskier removed the cloth on his forehead, then got on the bed behind Geralt and lifted him by his armpits so he leaned back against the bard. His head limply rolled backwards onto Jaskier’s shoulder. </p><p>“Is this any better?” Jaskier asked softly. Geralt nodded weakly in reply. His chest still heaved shakily with every breath, but he seemed to relax in Jaskier’s comfortable hold on him. </p><p>Jaskier didn’t have the heart to move his poor witcher from the one position he’d deemed satisfying, so he gently carded his fingers through Geralt’s hair as he succumbed to unconsciousness once again. He remained in place even as parts of his body fell asleep and went numb. He wanted to wash up, change out of his disgusting clothes, but Geralt hadn’t seemed this relaxed in ages. He couldn’t ruin that. </p><p>…</p><p>After some number of hours, sunlight streaming into the room, Jaskier realized he’d fallen asleep with his face buried in Geralt’s hair. His limbs were tingly when he tried to move them. He was pinned against the headboard by Geralt’s sleeping form.</p><p><i>Well,</i> Jaskier thought. <i>There are worse ways to wake up, I suppose.</i></p><p>He was still exhausted, so he couldn’t imagine how Geralt felt. The last thing he wanted to do was rouse his dear friend from sleep, but he couldn’t deny the itching feeling that he <i>desperately</i> needed a bath or at the very least, a change of clothes. Geralt would also need to wash up to avoid infection. </p><p>Jaskier leaned to the side as much as he dared to try and look over the witcher. His chest looked about the same, as did his throat. The bruising surrounding the claw marks in his thigh had healed somewhat and it seemed the bleeding had stopped. He’d have to remove the makeshift bandages to know for sure. </p><p>Geralt’s breathing was the smoothest it had been since the attack. He was managing deeper breaths and they were finally sounding steady. As Jaskier leaned back, Geralt shifted with a groan. Jaskier stilled, waiting to see if he would wake up on his own. </p><p>Instead of a peaceful awakening, Geralt woke coughing violently. Jaskier immediately had his arms around him, trying to keep him from bouncing his still-healing ribs around. Geralt nearly doubled over into his own lap, gasping for breath in between deep, bone-rattling coughs. Jaskier winced at the sound of his rasping breaths, whistling through his airways. </p><p>After about a minute of feeling like he was dying, Geralt finally stopped coughing, spitting mucus onto the floor and catching his breath. Jaskier slipped out from behind him and replaced himself with a couple of pillows so Geralt could lean back comfortably. He did just that, arms around his middle and eyes shut hard. </p><p>“You still with me?” Jaskier laid a hand on Geralt’s arm, speaking softly. </p><p>Geralt nodded, still sucking in air. </p><p>“Do you have anything we can use to wrap your chest with? You’ve got a real nasty cough and I can’t imagine the hell you just put your ribcage through,” Jaskier inquired while rubbing circles on Geralt’s back. </p><p>Geralt nodded again, opening his eyes and weakly pointing to the saddlebags. He kept his breathing under tight control as his head finally stopped spinning. </p><p>Jaskier dug through his belongings until he found a roll of bandages that looked like they would do the trick. He set them aside for the moment, returning to Geralt. </p><p>“Before we get you mummified, I really think you should try taking a bath. If nothing’s infected yet, we need to keep it that way. Then we’ll worry about that cough,” Jaskier said, trying to sound confident and cheerful. </p><p>Geralt picked up on his uncertainty, even in this state. “Just…fluid in…lungs,” he whispered hoarsely. His voice was barely hanging on. “I’ll…live.”</p><p>“Great, cause that’s real comforting,” Jaskier muttered. He clapped his hands together and forced a determined smile on his face. “So, I’m gonna see if we can’t get a bath ready in the next hour or so. Are you hungry?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head, leaning his head back and letting his eyelids fall. He kept one arm around his middle, like it was the only thing holding him together. He still felt nauseous, though not nearly to the extent he’d suffered from earlier. He heard Jaskier open and close the door, his footsteps getting fainter.</p><p>Geralt tried to let out a deep breath but winced as it aggravated his irritated lungs. <i>Wonderful,</i> he mused. <i>I suppose there’s some inflammation as well.</i> His breaths still came out shaky, but this was the best he’d felt since the attack. Sore, but blissfully still and able to rest. </p><p>He reached back with one hand and removed the tie in his hair. It hadn’t been holding much up at that point anyways. Tossing it by the rest of his supplies, he let his hair fall around his face and his head drop onto his chest, drifting off to sleep once again.</p><p>…</p><p>Jaskier returned to the room within half an hour with a wooden tub carried by the son and daughter of the innkeeper. The three worked together to fill the tub with steaming water while Geralt slept on, oblivious. Once the task was complete, Jaskier paid and thanked the two teenagers, sending them on their way. </p><p>He considered adding some of his favorite scented oils to the bath, but didn’t want to risk any of them irritating Geralt’s wounds. He just made sure to have a couple towels out as well as a bucket to rinse with. </p><p>“Almost forgot!” Jaskier exclaimed to himself, darting out of the room again. When he returned, he had a tray of two cups with several large pitchers of water. Geralt was sure to be just as dehydrated as he was. Food could wait, but the need for water was a little more urgent. He poured a glass for himself, drinking it quickly. Before he could enjoy any more, he brought a cup to Geralt and began to carefully wake him.</p><p>Jaskier had suffered from earlier incidents in which he had woken the witcher and gotten a knife against his throat or a punch to the stomach on pure instinct. This time, he simply laid a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and gave it soft, pulsing squeezes until the other man started to wake.</p><p>This time, there was no coughing fit, just Geralt looking miserable and exhausted. </p><p>“Welcome back, White Wolf. Care for a drink?” Jaskier held the cup out towards Geralt.</p><p>Geralt reached a shaking hand towards the cup, grimacing with frustration. </p><p>“Geralt, you’re just going to spill it,” Jaskier sighed. “Please, just let me do this for you. Okay?”</p><p>Geralt looked hurt for a split second before he resigned himself to his fate and nodded. He felt pathetic, being cared for like this. Witchers didn’t do <i>soft</i> or <i>gentle,</i> certainly not like Jaskier did. Geralt sipped down as much as he could handle and Jaskier set the rest on the bedside table. </p><p>“Now, the fun part,” Jaskier announced dramatically. “We have to figure out how to get you into that tub. Do you still-aha!” Jaskier found the stick Geralt had used as a crutch and brought it over to the bed. “This will certainly help. We’re just gonna have to do what we did in the forest, minus the splint, and also get you up and over the side of the tub…” Jaskier trailed off, unsure.</p><p>“Just…get me up,” Geralt grunted, already trying to swing his legs to the side of the bed. </p><p>“Yep, alright.”</p><p>It took several minutes, but Geralt went from sitting to standing, then from standing to walking. Any pressure on his bad leg caused him to bite hard on his lip to keep from making a sound. They made it to the side of the tub and paused. As Geralt caught his breath, Jaskier helped him remove his breeches while holding back any smart comments about Geralt’s arse. </p><p>“How would you like to-Geralt?!” Jaskier tried to stop Geralt, who was already swinging his bad leg up and over, then putting all of his weight on his arms, he leaned onto the rim of the tub and swung his other side in with a splash. It was far from graceful or painless, but it got the job done. </p><p>Geralt panted, unable to stop a pained whine from working its way out of his throat as well as the following hiss of pain as his wounds stung in the water. He put his arms up around the rim to keep himself upright as he gritted his teeth. Breathing hard, he forced himself to relax his muscles, one at a time, until he was sitting as comfortably as he could manage. </p><p>“I can wash your hair while you get the rest of you,” Jaskier offered softly from behind him. Geralt nodded and heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. It clunked into place behind him as a bar of soap found its way into his hand. They both did their duties in relative silence, broken by Jaskier occasionally warning Geralt that it was time to rinse. </p><p>Geralt did his best to get the worst of the dirt, blood, and sweat off his skin, but he was hit with a wave of exhaustion. His wounds were clean and that was good enough for him. As Jaskier continued massaging his scalp, he let himself drift off. </p><p>…</p><p>He woke up to Jaskier’s hand squeezing his shoulder gently.</p><p>“There you are, Sleeping Beauty,” Jaskier said. “Water’s getting cool and I’d still like to take a bath. Not to mention, you’d probably be much more comfortable in a bed.”</p><p>Geralt tried to grumble at him, annoyed at being forced to move, but his throat was scratchy and irritated. Instead of speaking, he started coughing again. Jaskier’s arms were around him, holding his head up and out of the water. It didn’t last long, but it sapped what little energy Geralt had woken up with. </p><p>“That sounded like it hurt,” Jaskier informed him.</p><p><i>No shit,</i> Geralt wanted to reply. Instead, he caught his breath and accepted Jaskier’s offered hands, pulling him up to his feet. With the help of his crutches, both stick and human, he made it to the bed with a towel around his waist. Clean clothes were on the bed with him.</p><p>“Do you think you can get dressed yourself?” Jaskier asked with an anxious look. </p><p>Geralt nodded. Jaskier narrowed his eyes. Geralt rolled his eyes with a huff and started to take his towel off.</p><p>“Okay! Okay!” Jaskier exclaimed, turning away and walking towards the bathtub. “I have seen enough of your privates for one day. Message received, friend. I’m going to bathe at long last so just shout if you need me.”</p><p>Geralt let out a low chuckle as he pulled his breeches on while leaning against the bedframe and the wall. He left the shirt and pants for later, when he had the energy to care about looking decent. Laying down, he pulled the thin covers over himself and closed his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for days and honestly, that didn’t sound like a bad idea.</p><p>Jaskier sighed in contentment from the bathtub. Geralt was asleep and recovering and very much <i>not dead.</i> For a witcher, he sure knew how to dance the line between life and death without falling victim to either extreme. Regardless, Jaskier was determined to stay by his side. It’s just what friends do for each other.</p>
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